


4 - Food For Thought

by distantstarlight



Series: 31_Days_of_Porn_Challenge_2017 [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: "Food", 31 Days of Porn Challenge 2017, Day 4, Fluff and Smut, John being clever, John is smooth with a capital Smoo, M/M, Sherlock learns something, gay ones, there will be sexual acts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-28 01:09:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10820550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distantstarlight/pseuds/distantstarlight
Summary: Sherlock Holmes is well known for his personal restraint when it comes to food but perhaps someone has figured a way around that issue?





	4 - Food For Thought

**Author's Note:**

> This is in response to the 4th prompt in the 31 Days of Porn Challenge "Food"
> 
> It wasn't until posting this that it occurred to me that it is May 4 and I've just missed a glorious opportunity to work with that. Oops.

Sherlock Holmes valued his mind above all things. He filled it with information, trained it, exercised it, and cared for it in every way possible. His _body_ he ignored, referring to it as transport. It was meaningless to him as anything but a tool to get things done after his mind had sorted out the details. As a result of his careless attitude, his transport was a bit weedy, endlessly gaunt, and frankly, becoming a bit troublesome since it got fatigued easily and was prone to falling ill. Sherlock set himself a dining schedule, a four-course meal once every three days, no skipping. _That should help._ Congratulating himself on his sensible plan, Sherlock completely ignored the fact that his flatmate was a doctor as well as his best friend.

If anyone knew and understood Sherlock Holmes, it was John Watson. No, John wasn’t the brightest penny but he was, in his own blind way, perceptive. He realised that nagging Sherlock about food wouldn’t work, so the clever doctor began an ingenious campaign where he combined compliments with edible treats. Sherlock hadn’t twigged to it for several days but now he realised that John had taken to keeping various nibbles in his coat pockets, and when they were running about London, he was doing something particular. “That was amazing, Sherlock!” he’d cry, and then produced a biscuit which Sherlock automatically ate while he preened. That was a tad insulting as if he were a pet who needed rewarding when he needed further training.

When he looked backwards though, Sherlock realised that John’s campaign had actually already begun at 221 B Baker Street. John didn’t hand Sherlock food, he just left it around. He cut his sandwiches into quarters, knowing that Sherlock wouldn’t be able to resist stealing a bit if he thought John wasn’t looking, so John had made sure to be otherwise occupied. _Sherlock had been eating those sandwiches corners for ages now! The salad!_ Now Sherlock could see how leaving tiny bowls of seeds and nuts around had been done to pique his curiosity, causing him to taste a handful before John mixed them in with the greens and added a piquant dressing. Sherlock had declined a plate of it and John had not protested and Sherlock realised after the fact that John had won the round the second Sherlock had opened his mouth _and he hadn_ _’_ _t even noticed the game!_

John Watson was sneak feeding him!

The bastard!

Sherlock resisted. Now when John left tempting or interesting food about, Sherlock rigorously ignored it. His transport felt shaky and a bit nauseated after the first day but he ordered himself to continue. _How long had this been going on if a single day without food was troubling him? He used to be able to go for almost four before he felt like this!_ It was more difficult to ignore when they were in the field because John was so fucking smooth about it. Apple wedges magically appeared and then disappeared into Sherlock’s mouth during a stakeout. He cursed and vowed to try harder. John was thrilled when they caught a kidnapper right before he cornered his young victim and the cheese and cracker combo was reduced to crumbles before Sherlock realised he should have said no.

John was a difficult foe and Sherlock’s transport was growing firm and fit and was more prone to wanting it’s urges satisfied with immediacy. The doctor often ordered Chinese food, knowing that Sherlock found using chopsticks almost irresistible. He never asked the detective to have any, just bringing the cup that held all the chopsticks out to the living room so he could eat and listen to Sherlock explain the latest case details to him. Sherlock tried, he really did, but when the data caught him and everything was coming together perfectly and the puzzle was practically putting itself together right in front of his eyes, then how was he supposed to realise that he’d grabbed up a pair, and nabbed a mouthful of veg and noodles? John never said a thing, even when Sherlock ate right off his plate. The only words Sherlock heard were, “ _Fantastic. That was brilliant. How did you put all of that together?_ _”_

The food was just the beginning. Sherlock realised he was fighting a losing battle the day John went to work at the clinic and left Sherlock with a pile of cases to sort through. He couldn’t focus on any of it. _He was missing something and it wasn_ _’_ _t a good photo or a piece of hard evidence!_ It wasn’t until hours later when John came back that the clues sorted themselves out. During pudding Sherlock solved it all, nearly shouting his conclusions into John’s face as he brandished the last of his sponge cake in victory.

Later that night Sherlock understood that he needed John and not just as a source of food. Somehow, letting John know things was helping him think as if guiding John from clue to clue solidified the paths between supposition and verifiable fact. Somehow, all the extra eating he’d been doing was making thinking easier, but it didn’t work perfectly until John was actually present. _Intriguing_.

Sherlock tested himself. Securing a number of cold cases, he set up a series of self-administered tests, each scenario tailored so that he could note his own reactions to John-based-stimuli. It was…revealing. John was his best friend. That was solid fact. John was also his flatmate. Third party verification unnecessary. What Sherlock had not known was that his brain worked _better_ when John was present, and it was something that had happened right from the day they had met. Sherlock had left John in the mortuary with Mike Stamford because John’s mere presence had allowed Sherlock to see what a man of military bearing looked like as he attempted to conceal his personal pain, and that small detail led Sherlock right to the perpetrator of the crime he’d been working on.

He finally had a stunning personal revelation. _John was courting him!_ John looked after him, catered to him, one might even say John Watson went out of his way to _spoil_ Sherlock. _John brought Sherlock foods he loved but didn_ _’_ _t force him to eat. He listened to anything Sherlock had to say, examined anything Sherlock told him to look at and took away anything that annoyed Sherlock and dealt with it himself._ His life had never been so easy, not since John Watson had entered it.

Sherlock made up his mind. If John was courting him via food, then Sherlock would answer back the same way. The next time they were out on a case, Sherlock didn’t hesitate to accept food from John’s hand, looking his friend directly in the eye as he ate a bit of fruit. John smiled warmly. The next offering was a chocolate biscuit, and once more, Sherlock caught John’s direct attention as he carefully consumed it without protest. Later that day John bought himself fish and chips, walking down the street with Sherlock as he quickly ate before it cooled. Sherlock accepted a chip and one large morsel of crisp fried fish, grasping John’s hand to steady it so he could nip it from between John’s fingers without getting his own hand oily. John didn’t say anything, but his smile grew a tiny bit warmer.

John kept feeding Sherlock and Sherlock kept allowing it. One evening, they were on a stakeout, hiding behind a large bin in a dark alley. John was giving Sherlock the last of his sandwich when Lestrade texted, informing them that the perp they’d been looking for had been arrested in a different part of town. John might have expected Sherlock to storm away in irritation but instead, he found himself pressed against the alley wall and two of his fingers inside Sherlock’s mouth.

Sherlock watched John closely as he made his move. He sucked on John’s fingertips softly, noting that the soldier neither attempted to pull them away nor did he speak a word to stop Sherlock. Carefully, he licked every last trace of food from John’s hand before taking three fingers into his mouth, sliding them in and out slowly as his tongue lapped, “Sherlock.” He couldn’t see John’s eyes very well but his voice was raspy and filled with desire.

Sherlock felt the heat of arousal warm him. Releasing John’s fingers, he leant down and tasted John’s mouth, savouring everything he discovered carefully. Reaching down cautiously, he pressed a curious palm to John’s crotch and found him pleasingly hard. Deciding that there was no time like the present, Sherlock slowly went to his knees and looked up, “May I?”

John’s raspy gasp may have been a yes but his frantic head nodding let Sherlock know that permission had been granted. Unzipping his soldier carefully, Sherlock exposed John’s fully hard cock before he proceeded to memorise how it tasted and became addicted to how it felt inside his mouth and down his throat. He had John’s hips pushed firmly to the alley wall behind him but John’s hands were on his head, urging Sherlock to keep going. Sherlock was in no rush though, loving the feel and heat of John’s cock, the salty slickness of precum, and how John whimpered each time Sherlock choked himself on it. When the first thick pulses of come landed on his tongue Sherlock’s transport reacted intensely, and he came in his pants without so much as a touch. He groaned and leant forward, encouraging John to remain deep in his mouth so that he could lap up every delicious drop of him.

It was so easy after that. John provided large meals when they were at home or packed his pockets full of snacks if they were going out, or let Sherlock kneel in front of him whenever they found an appropriately private location to do so. He especially liked it when John was a bit rough and demanding, like when he got jealous of Sherlock flirting with clients to get information, often resulting in a hard face-fuck in a dirty public bathroom or grotty alley. Sherlock never complained and why would he? Penitent John liked to bottom when they eventually made it home and Sherlock enjoyed fucking his John nearly as much as he enjoyed sucking him. Having sex with John was absolutely brilliant. Sherlock found he rather loved fellatio and that sucking John’s cock not only allowed him to work in his mind palace with blinding speed but gave his transport a welcomed mouthful of something delicious to consume. After all, Sherlock needed feeding up, and that’s what boyfriends were for, right?


End file.
